g
by zsvasfgasefgas
Summary: j


_**Hey Fellas,**_

_**This is the first story i am publishing on this website and forgive me if it takes me a while to get used to the setup. This story is going to be predominantly set within J.K Rowlings Harry Potter Universe, and it will include elements from Rick **__**Riordians legendary Gods Of Olympus Universe as well as Pittacus Lore's Lorien Legacies Universe, a universe which has barely been explored by fan-fiction writers. **_

_**The story will revolve around an OC of my own creation, Orion. (don't confuse him the actual mythological dude). So do me a favour and don't get pissed if you just don't like OC stories.**_

_**Anyway, Hope you Enjoy.**_

_**Γεια σας**_

Chapter 1

"I loathe like Hades' gates the man who thinks one thing and says another" _– The Iliad 9:312_

He was awoken to the crackling of the dyeing embers, the only remnant of the dead fire which he had formed the previous night. The same fire which had kept him from freezing within this crisp alpine climate. Shuffling his body forward away from his position on the deceased alpine ash log he had previously been lying against, he notices for the first time since opening his eyes the state of the ground around him. Last night had seen to a light dumping of snow upon the already ice-caked ground. As he slowly attempts to lift his body onto the log his face morphs into a slight grimace of pain. Reminding him of the wound he had previously received along his right forearm, a vicious slash which was, to his relief, not too deep. This however did not affect the appearance of the wound which had been inflicted upon his inner forearm, the incision stretching from close two inches from his wrist till around three quarters up his forearm. His arm now holds the appearance of having been slashed by a canine type animal, in this case a Eurasian wolf.

Wanting to forgo such memories of pain he forces himself to stand, his joints cracking due to the previous night's position of sleeping. Re-adjusting the bandages wrapped around his forearm he walks closer to the dyeing fire and stamps out all the remaining shards of smouldering wood. Feeling a fleeting enjoyment as he feels the satisfying crunch of smouldering embers dyeing beneath his combat boots. Ash flies out from underneath his feet as the force of his stomps disperses all the particles in the air for around a meter around him, suggesting a hidden strength. His gaze now locks onto the quickly changing skyline, evidence of the suns upcoming arrival over the horizon now evident. As he gazes at the horizon he is reminded of where he is now, gazing down from his resting place upon the peak of this mountain. The still dark sky contrasts with the now golden glowing snow and ice-covered ground below. From where he is standing the mountain begins its descent, giving him a clear unobstructed view of the snow-covered valleys below. Jagged rocks jut out from the mostly smooth looking mountain side as it continues its descent. The Mountain continues to descend out of the alpine region as plants and trees now begin to appear, Life, which had been unable to survive at this height. However, the mountain he stands upon is one of many within this mountain range, albeit the tallest and largest. Similar frozen Mountains eject from the ground around the mountain, and as he gazes at the mountain range thoughts of power enter his mind. He is at the tallest point in the whole nation and despite the still large mountains around him, he easily recognises the superiority of the mountain he stands upon.

Boring of the view after a few minutes he heads towards where he has been resting, a clearing. Surrounding the clearing are large rocks, erect from the ground creating a rough circle around the defoliated area. The landscape protects the clearing from the alpine winds and has allowed for life to grow. A few snow Gum trees stand proud within this small sanctuary. Aside of the now quiet fire and deceased log, a small cave is present, formed due to the elevated array of rocks. This small alcove is large enough for around two people to lie comfortably in, a perfect location to sleep, free of the elements. He exhales heavily as he walks towards one of the lone trees, condensation forming with every breath. When he arrives, he stares at the objects of his contemplation. Embedded within the tree are three knives, creating a very unusual image. Grasping each knife, he violently yanks them out of the tree, sliding them into his knife holders located in a symmetrical array on his chest. The knives all have simple black handles, created from an incredibly tough form of leather. The blade itself is unique, while having a similar build to a standard throwing knife it is still different. The metal is silver coloured and coverts a sense of untamed strength and power. The unique blades appear to create an unorthodox shine, appearing to distort the light it is now basking in from the rising sun. Upon the dark handles are three words engraved messily by the hand of a youth '**Property of Orion'.**

Moving back towards the aforementioned log he squats down in front of it, leaning on one leg, examining the sack in which he had previously gathered food within. Venison, dried meats, and a variety of nuts and berries. As he reaches into the sack, finally noticing his hunger, while ignoring the freezing air striking the back of his neck he stops. Suddenly becoming very still, as if to assume the position of an in-animate object. His senses go into overdrive as he lets out a frosty breath from his chapped lips, picking up on all the details of his surroundings. Listening in for the slightest movements. The sound of the alpine air current rushing through the scarce number of snow-covered trees, the feel of his ice caked hair, and the presence of a sudden violent output of power. A power so rich in its stench of death that the very minimal strands of alpine flora in the area all wither and die.

His palm, already having grasped the extra throwing knife strapped to the outer side of his right calf suddenly whips outwards, as he releases the knife in the direction of the satanic-type pressure. The knife moves so fast that the very air seems to distort as it rushes towards its target. The ice which had previously cacked the handle of the knife is violently shredded as the air pressure rips it away due to the forward thrust of its motion. Gravity does not have a chance to affect the trajectory of the knife as it speeds towards the all-encompassing power of this unknown individual, the knife brutally splitting the air. Surprise over comes him as the now identified being simply tilts his head and the knife freezes in motion, directly in front of its eye, the whole situation taking less than a second. They had moved so fast that to any onlookers, all they would have seen was a blur of motion.

The being opens his eyes, eyes which are glowing with hellish looking black fire. Holding his gaze, the individual reaches upward, the pressure created by his power reseeding as he removes a pale white crown apparently made of bones from his head. He notices that as the crown is removed it simply disappears, leaving nothing held within the individual's hands. The mans hooded cloak falls back as he finally gets a clear look at this now identified individual. The being has the appearance of an older man in his late 50's early 60's, his shoulder length grey hair is held back in a simple knot as it falls against his neck. A sculptured looking face is matched by satanic flaming black eyes, brimming with hidden and controlled power, a power similar to his own except seemingly hundreds of times more powerful. Standing at a height of 6"1 he has a strong not overly bulky build, that would suggest a lifetime of working on the farm, an impression which is ruined by the physical whips a dark energy flowing from his aura, which has begun to surround him. His dark aura a physical representation of his extreme power.

Breaking his gaze, he finally takes notice of the appearance of a dark graphite tinted bi-dent which the man now holds, clasped behind his back, its two prongs sticking over the man's head. Markings and engravings written in an ancient language cover its frame. Engravings which appear to be glowing white hot, with enough heat to physically create ripples of thermal energy. The bi-dent itself appears to be made of a strange metal, capturing no light despite the now rising sun's rays of light striking it from the side. It physically appears to suck the life out of the air around it as the light simply dies off before it reaches the weapon. However, this metal is not strange to the 17-year-old male facing him because this is a metal he has seen before, from a time in his past which he has tried to forget. As a matter of fact, he has seen this very same man before. Suddenly bringing foreword a memory from his past which he would have preferred locked away.

**_'_****_Flashback Starts'_**

**_All he can feel is scorching heat, his eyes shut tight in pain as his back is open by a 7-foot-long broadsword, which his opponent swung at him. A sword which, if any closer, would have cleaved him in two. Instead it cleanly slices along his back, not deep enough to hit bone or cause significant damage, but enough to cause an incomprehensible amount of pain and put him out of the fight. As he falls back onto the ground screaming in pain, he sees the enemies head cleaved right off by a long shining golden sword. The creature in front of him falls to the ground with a loud thud, its weight moving all matter in its vicinity. His eyes start to close as he sees a man in golden armour, with dirty blonde hair and eyes glowing like the sun standing in front of him. Golden energy is rolling of him in waves, suffocating all life around him. The beings gaze suddenly turns on him and all the anger disappears. The last thing he hears before he succumbs to darkness is from the golden form now out of his field of view as his head has now lolled to the side. The only thing he can see is a long dark sword with the appearance of graphite, created form a metal alloy which should not exist outside of the underworld. The same sword which had sliced his back open. "BROTHER", the man's voice yells as he succumbs to darkness._**

**_'_****_Flashback Ends'_**

Despite lasting less than a second the man standing before him picks up on his inner turmoil. Orion slowly runs his fingers along where he knows his wound to be, a wound which hasn't bothered him or hindered his abilities for almost a year now. The man's gaze locks directly on his own, satanic flaming eyes versus what was previously warm brown eyes, but are now glowing a bright golden, both gazes holding incomprehensible power, yearning to be released. The man's lips suddenly form into a small grin, instinctively causing a grin of his own as he finally greets the god standing before him.

"Uncle"


End file.
